CHAPTER XIII.--A PROPOSAL.

A long time elapsed and we did not return, but amid the bustle that

reigned in and around Craigaderyn Court, our absence was not observed

so soon as it might otherwise have been, the attention of the many

guests being fully occupied by each other. The proposal of Dora's

health devolved upon Lord Pottersleigh as the senior bachelor present,

and it was drunk amid such cheers as country gentlemen alone can give.

Then Sir Madoc, who had a horror of after-dinner speeches in general,

replied tersely and forcibly enough, because the words of thanks and

praise for his youngest girl came straight from his affectionate

heart; but his white handkerchief was freely applied to the nervous

task of polishing his forehead, which gave him a sense of relief; for

the worthy old gentleman was no orator, and closed his response by

drinking to the health of all present in Welsh.

"Our good friend's ideas are somewhat antiquated," said Pottersleigh

to Guilfoyle, who now stuck to him pretty closely; "but he is a

thorough gentleman of an old school that is passing away."

His lordship, however, looked the older man of the two.

"Antiquated! By Jove, I should think so," responded the other, who

instinctively disliked his host; "ideas old as the days when people

made war without powder and shot, went to sea without compasses, and

pegged their clothes for lack of buttons; but he is an hospitable old

file, and his wine--this Château d'Yquem, for instance, is excellent."

Pottersleigh gave the speaker a quiet stare, and then, as if disliking

this style of comment, turned to Lady Naseby for the remainder of the

repast.

The overcasting of the day and a threatening of rain had put an end to

much of the dancing on the flower-terrace, and of the promenading in

the garden and grounds. The proposal of Dora's health had been deemed

the close of the fête; the servants had begun to prepare for the ball,

and many of the guests, whose invitation did not include that portion

of the festivities--for the grounds of course, would hold more than

the hall--were beginning to depart, while a few still lingered in the

conservatories, the library, or the picture gallery; thus, though

Caradoc was looking through them for me, with a shrewd idea that I was

with Lady Estelle, he could not for the life of him imagine _where_;

besides, Phil was anxious to make the most of his time with Miss

Lloyd.

The breaking of the guests into groups caused our absence to be long

unnoticed, especially while carriages, gigs, drags, wagonnettes, and

saddle-horses were brought in succession to the door; cloaks and

shawls put on, ladies handed in, and the stream of vehicles went

pouring down the long lime avenue and out of the park.

"You have danced but once to-day with Mr. Caradoc, he has told me,"

said Dora in a low voice, as she passed her sister.

"I had so many to dance with--so many to introduce; and then, think of

the evening before us."

"He loves you quite passionately, I think, Winny dear; more than words

can tell."

"So it would seem," replied Winifred, smiling over her fan.

"Why--how?"

"He has never spoken to me on the subject."

"He will do so before this evening is over, or I am no true

prophetess," said Dora, as she threw back the bright masses of her

hair.

"That I don't believe."

"Why?"

"Because he wears at his neck a gold locket, the contents of which no

one has seen; and Mr. Guilfoyle assures me that it holds the likeness

of a lady."

"Well time will prove," replied Dora, as she was again led away by her

new admirer, the little sub from Chester; but her prediction came

true.

Winifred felt instinctively that she was the chief attraction to

Caradoc, and was exciting in his breast emotions to which she could

not respond. Again and again when asking her to dance, she had urged

in reply, that he would please her more by dancing with others, as

there were present plenty of country girls to whom a red coat was

quite a magnet; so poor Caradoc found plenty of work cut out for him.

Pressed at last by him, Winifred said, while fanning herself,

"Do excuse me; to-night I shall reward you fully; but meanwhile we may

take a little promenade. I think all who are to remain must know each

other pretty well now;" and taking his arm they passed from the great

marquee along the now deserted terrace, to find that the sky was so

overcast and the wind so high, that they turned into an alley of the

conservatory, where she expected to find some of their friends, but it

was empty; and as Caradoc's face, and the tremulous inflections of his

voice, while he was uttering mere commonplaces about the sudden change

of the weather, the beauty of the flowers, the elegance of the

conservatory, and so forth, told her what was passing in his mind, she

became perplexed annoyed with herself, and said hurriedly,

"Let us seek Lady Naseby; I fear that we are quite neglecting her--and

she is somewhat particular."

"One moment, Miss Lloyd, ere we go; I have so longed for an

opportunity to speak with you--alone, I mean--for a moment--even for a

moment," said he.

Winifred Lloyd knew what was coming; there was a nervous quivering of

her upper lip, which was a short one, and showed a small portion of

her white teeth, usually imparting an expression of innocence to her

face, while its normal one was softness combined with great sweetness.

Caradoc had now possessed himself of her right hand, thus without

breaking away from him, and making thereby a species of "scene"

between them, an episode to be avoided, she could not withdraw, but

stood looking shyly and blushingly half into his handsome face, while

he spoke to her with low and broken but earnest utterances.

"I have decoyed you hither," said he, "and you will surely pardon me

for doing so, when you think how brief is my time now, here, in this

happy home of yours--even in England itself; and when I tell you how

anxious I have been to--to address you--"

"Mr. Caradoc," interrupted the girl, now blushing furiously behind her

fan, "your moments will soon become minutes!"

"Would that the minutes might become hours, and the hours, days and

years, could I but spend them with you! Listen to me, Miss Lloyd--"

"Not at present--do, pray, excuse me--I wish to speak with Dora."

But instead of having her hand released, it was now pressed by Caradoc

between both of his.

"I will not detain you very long," said he, sadly, almost

reproachfully; "you know that I love you; every time my eyes have met

yours, every time I have spoken, my voice must have told you that I do

dearly, and if the fondest emotions of my heart--"

"A soldier's heart, of which little scraps and shreds have been left

in every garrison town?"

"Do not laugh at my honest earnestness!" urged Caradoc, with a deep

sigh.

"Pardon me, I do not laugh; O think not that I could be guilty of such

a thing!" replied Winifred, colouring deeper than ever.

Beautiful though she was, and well dowered too, this was the first

proposal or declaration that had been made to her. The speaker was

eminently handsome, his voice and eyes were full of passion and

earnestness, and she could not hear him without a thrill of pleasure

and esteem.

"I know that I am not worthy of you, perhaps; but--"

"I thank you, dear Mr. Caradoc, but--but--more is impossible."

"Impossible--why?"

She grew quite pale now, but he still retained her hand; and her

change of colour was, perhaps, unseen by him, for there was little

light in the conservatory, the evening clouds being dark and dense

without.

"Miss Lloyd--Winifred--dearest Winifred--I love you, love you with all

my heart and soul!"

"Do not say so, I implore you!" said she in an agitated voice, and

turning away her head.

"Do you mean to infer that you are already engaged?"

"No."

"Or that you love another?"

"That is not a fair question," she replied, with a little hauteur of

manner.

"It is, circumstanced as I am, and after the avowal I have made."

"Well, I do--not."

"And yet you cannot love me? Alas, I am most unfortunate!"

"Let this end, dear Mr. Caradoc," said Winifred, almost sobbing, and

deeply repenting that she had taken his arm for a little promenade

that was to end in a proposal. Phil, being in full uniform, played

with, or swung somewhat nervously, the tassels of his crimson sash, a

favourite resort of young officers when in any dubiety or dilemma.

After a little pause--

"May I speak to Sir Madoc on the subject?" he asked.

"No."

"Perhaps my friend Harry Hardinge might advise--"

"Nay, for Heaven's sake don't confer with him on the matter at all!"

"Why?" said he, startled by her earnestness.

"Would you make love to me through _him_--through another?"

"You entirely mistake my meaning."

"What _do_ you mean?"

"Simply what I have said; that I love you, esteem and admire you; that

you are, indeed, most dear to me, and that if I had the approval--"

"Of the lady whose likeness is in your locket; so treasured that a

secret spring secures it!" said she, suddenly remembering Dora's words

as a means of escape.

"Yes, especially with her approval. I should then be happy, indeed. I

know not how you came to know of it; but shall I show you the

likeness?"

"If you choose," said Winifred, thinking in her heart, "Poor fellow,

it must be his mother's miniature;" but when Phil touched a spring and

the locket flew open she beheld a beautiful coloured photo of

_herself_.

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, "how came you by this?"

"Hardinge had two in the barracks, and I begged one from him."

"Hardinge--Harry Hardinge! That was most unfair of him," said she, her

agitation increasing; "he is one of our oldest friends."

"May I be permitted to keep it?"

"O, no; not there--not there, in a locket at your neck."

"Be it so; your slightest wish is law to me; but be assured, Miss

Lloyd, the heart near which it lies was never offered to woman

before."

"I can well believe you; but--hush, here are people coming!"

Sir Madoc and Lady Naseby entered the conservatory somewhat hurriedly,

followed by two or three of the guests.

"Lady Estelle! Is Lady Estelle here?" they asked, simultaneously.

"No," replied Caradoc.

"Nor Harry Hardinge?"

"We are quite alone, papa," said Winifred, in a voice the agitation of

which, at another time, must have been apparent to all; for no woman

can hear a declaration of love or receive a proposal quite

unconcerned, especially from a handsome young fellow who was so

earnest as Philip Caradoc; around whom the coming departure for the

seat of war shed a halo of melancholy interest, and who, by the

artless production of the locket, proved that he had loved her for

some time past, and secretly too.

"What the deuce is the meaning of this?" exclaimed Sir Madoc, with an

expression of comicality, annoyance, and alarm mingling in his face;

"the servants can nowhere find her!"

"Find who?" asked Lord Pottersleigh, opening his snuffbox as he

shambled forward.

"Why, Lady Estelle."

His lordship took a pinch, paused for the refreshing titillation of a

sneeze, and then said,

"Indeed--surprising--very!"

"And Hardinge is missing, too, you say?" said Phil. "How odd!"

"Odd! egad, I think it _is_ odd; they have not been seen by any one

for more than two hours, and a regular storm has come on!"

Phil and Miss Lloyd had been too much occupied, or they must have

remarked the bellowing of the wind without and the sudden darkening of

the atmosphere.

"O papa, papa!" exclaimed Dora, now rushing in from the lawn,

"something dreadful must have happened. I left them on the verge of

the cliffs; returning to look for the bracelet you gave me, I met my

partner, Mr. Clavell of the 19th; we began dancing again, and I forgot

all about them."

"On the cliffs!" exclaimed several voices, reprehensibly and

fearfully.

"Yes," continued Dora, beginning to weep; "I took them through the

park wicket, and suggested a visit to the Bôd Mynach."

"Suggested this to Estelle! She is not, as we are, used to such paths

and places, and you tell us of it only now!" exclaimed Winifred, with

an expression of reproach and anguish sparkling in her eyes.

"My God, an accident must have occurred! The wind--weather--compose

yourself, Lady Naseby; Gwyllim, ring the house-bell, and summon every

one," cried Sir Madoc; "not a moment is to be lost."

"O, what is all this you tell me now, Dora?" exclaimed Winifred, as

she started from the conservatory, with her lips parted, her dark eyes

dilated, and her hair put back by both her trembling hands.

Poor Phil Caradoc and his proposal were alike forgotten now; and he

began to fear that, like Hugh Price of ours, in making love he had

made some confounded mistake.

Querulous, and useless so far as searching or assisting went, Lord

Pottersleigh nevertheless saw the necessity of affecting to do

something, as a man, as a gentleman, and a very particular friend of

the Naseby family. Accoutred in warm mufflings by his valet, with a

mackintosh, goloshes, and umbrella, he left the house half an hour

after every one else, and pottered about the lawn, exclaiming from

time to time,

"Such weather! such a sky! ugh, ugh! what the devil can have

happened?" till a violent fit of coughing, caused by the keen breeze

from the sea, and certain monitory twinges of gout, compelled him to

return to his room, and wait the event there, making wry faces and

sipping his colchicum, while sturdy old Sir Madoc conducted the search

on horseback, galloping knee-deep among fern, searching the vistas of

the park, and sending deer, rabbits, and hares scampering in every

direction before him. Above the bellowing of the stormy wind, that

swept the freshly torn leaves like rain against the walls and

mullioned windows of the old house, or down those long umbrageous

vistas where ere long the autumn spoil would be lying thick, rose and

fell the clangour of the house-bell. Servants, grooms, gamekeepers,

and gardeners were despatched to search, chiefly in the wild vicinity

of the now empty Bôd Mynach; but no trace could be found of Lady

Estelle or her squire, save a white-laced handkerchief, which, while a

low cry of terror escaped her, Lady Naseby recognised as belonging to

her daughter. On it were a coronet and the initials of her name.

It had been found by Phil Caradoc with the aid of a lantern, when

searching along the weedy rocks between the silent cavern and the

seething sea, which was now black with the gathered darkness and a

mist from the west.

There was no ball at Craigaderyn Court that night.